A photo tour of our walk home...

Yes, it's true that until recently we hadn't updated the blog in ages. My apologies on that one. A considerable part of the delay has been getting the photos organized, which was my job. We've been posting some stories from six months ago and we're currently out traveling again for the month of July so there will be more stories from around Colombia soon. But for now, I thought it would be fun to show you a "photo journal" taken during a walk home from school. It's an hour or so to walk home (depending on how long you delay with the camera) and since the weather is exactly the same now as it has been all year, these photos could have been taken virtually at any time. Here we go...

View outside my classroom door

 I'm starting at the beginning. Let's assume that you've donned your good walking shoes along with me and we're just about to leave my classroom. Our first move is to head out into the corridor that connects the high school classrooms. Our school has many different sections, but Dan and I are both in "C block", which is near the main entrance. Some classrooms have their own little building, whereas others are a part of a section of classrooms attached to one another. None of the corridors are indoors, although there are a few covered walkways.

Wave... we're passing the school futbol field. It looks like there is a game on, but that's not unusual. I think this is the senior boys playing an intramural game. "Extrasports" take place twice a week after school, but the field is used almost all times during lunch and recess too. Just up from the field is the school "tienda" and "kiosk", which is the school snackbar and the nearby shelter. Once a week I need to be the policewoman in charge of keeping kids in line at the tienda during lunch hour. Once a semester I'm on tienda duty at recess for a week. It's a particularly loathed job. Perhaps if I charged a tithe for letting the kids join the line....

Pretty nice view for a futbol field

The Kiosk and Tienda (Primary school in the background)

Dan and Monica

Here we are at Dan's classroom. Our classrooms are fairly simplistic. At least Dan has a space for hanging student work at the back of his room to make it a little prettier. There isn't much else in them besides a whiteboard and desks.

Monica has arrived to clean the classroom for him. She and a team of capable ladies come in each day to sweep the floor, wash the desks and take out the garbage. Monica also makes the staff coffee in the morning and is unbelievably nice. She gave us both big hugs on our way out the door. The height difference between Dan and Monica is cause for great amusement among our coworkers.

Almost away... we're just reaching the school parking lot and out the front entrance. As we leave the school grounds you can see the bus coming to pick up the teachers after school. We ride this bus to school each morning (pick up is at 6:35am at our door) and take it home again in the evenings (drop off is along the main street in our neighbourhood).

Although schedules are fairly flexible in all things Colombian, the bus is pretty good at leaving with 10 minutes of when it is meant to. It makes things very convenient.

Here comes the bus to pick up the teachers after school

Just down the road from our school is a dairy farm. We see these cows every day. The calving season was last fall and depending on which side of the bus you were sitting you might actually get to see a birth. I missed it several times, but we did gawk at the baby calves once they were roaming around. It's hard to describe just how close this is to our school. The field of cows borders one side of the school property and is close enough that in the middle-school classrooms cows occasionally come right up to the window. One of our fellow English teachers was reading a story to her grade 7 class when a cow stuck it's head right next to the window to "listen". Madness ensued and the story had to be abandoned because the students were so distracted. Earlier this year, a cow was mooing all day and students tried to use the cow as a thin excuse to disrupt my class. One burst in and shouted that it was stuck upside down in the river and that I should hop the fence and "help it". When I asked them just how I was going to be able to assist a full-grown cow to its feet, they responded by saying "but you're a Biology teacher, so you must know how to help it." Occasionally, the cows block the road and the bus must crawl along at the cow's pace. The picture of the blocked bus is from a different day, but you get the idea.

Next to the cows is a farm called "Irlandia". All of the farms, or fincas, have names, often country names or women's names. We've seen a finca called "Canada" and another called "China" in our area, but many are "Eden" or '"Paradiso". This particular finca has three large protective german shepards. When you start past the farm them bound over silently like a pack of wolves, then begin to viciously bark their heads off. One of them is very taken with the baby cows next door. We see him from the bus sometimes sitting with his head through the fence just watching the calves in the pasture protectively.

Finally, we've reached the highway. The view of the mountains is especially nice when the weather is clear. There are occasionally views of the snowy peaks near Manizales in the distance. Our school is notable enough (or perhaps it's just that the region is small enough) to have it's own sign directing traffic off the highway. "Gim. ingles" refers to Gimnasio Ingles, the "English Gym/School" as it would be translated.

Along this stretch of highway is the club district. There are a string of bars and concert halls here, most notably "Mariajuana", which is next door to the "House of Pleasure". While I haven't been to either, maybe it's about time I went. They are tremendously popular among the aguardiente-swilling reggaeton-loving crowd, which is to say, nearly everyone.

Continue down the highway and there are a few rural sights to take in. As you can see in the photo, the cows here are very talented. This one is showing off his dextrous tongue. Many of the roadside shops also feature lovely wickerware. You can get an entire living room set, a cradle, a variety of vases and wicker decorations to put in them... If there's anything you ever considered making out of plant fibre, these are the countryfolk for the job.

Thou shalt buy gasoline!

The gas stations around here are particularly blessed.

Just a little further along and we reach Dan's favourite mural. It's next to a mountaintop beach volleyball court, filled with sand and surrounded by a net so that your ball doesn't plummet into the valley during the game.

It's also possible at this point to take a little rest along the local art if you like. It's carved into the side of the road but don't be fooled into thinking that it's ancient. The local water company sponsored it as an advertisement and I just cut the logo out of the frame.

We've been walking for about 30 minutes now and we're reaching the edge of Armenia proper. You can tell because the housing developments have started to crop up. There's also a miltary base here, guarded by 19 year olds with machine guns doing their mandatory two year stint.

Our first real sign of civilization is the Juan Valdez Cafe. More than just an ad campaign from the 80s, Juan Valdez is a national icon symbolizing the local coffee growers. It's not that different from a Starbucks in feel... expensive coffee, over-priced coffee accoutrement, apparel featuring Juan Valdez and his donkey in various stylish colours. It was a particularly funny moment when we first learned of the Juan Valdez Cafe at the beginning of the school year.  During our first staff meeting, our principal was stressing the importance of being strict with the school uniform. "The students must always be wearing the school sweater, no Juan Valdez sweaters allowed..." Dan and I had looked at one another with a puzzled look-- just how hillybilly were these kids? "Really?" Dan asked, "they will wear a Juan Valdez sweater, like a wool poncho, to school?" Our principal was confused, then burst out laughing, shortly joined by the Colombian staff when he translated what he'd asked. We passed it off as an intentional joke as smoothly as we could.

 Our neighbourhood is the nicest one in the city. It's a good thing it isn't hard to navigate because the street signs leave something to be desired. The government erected them a few years ago, but no one has gotten around to putting names on them yet. They blankly inform you that you're at the corner of green and green.

The Mall (including Super Almacen Olympica - similar to a Superstore)

 Once you are on the main street, you'll find the mall, many little restaurants, a few drinking establishments and a smattering of trendy clothing shops. One of the local restaurants, Hamburgeusa La Abuela (Grandma's Burgers), reflects our changing opinions of the local fast food. When we first arrived, I remember being interested in checking out the local Hamburguesas. It's vastly popular, with plastic chairs and tables spilling out on to the street during the evening and a constant rotation of rowdy hamburger-loving Colombians. I've yet to see it empty during business hours. There's a peculiar smell that comes from the burgers, which I initially thought might be a good one. Some of the other teachers and I decided to check it out in our first couple of weeks in Armenia. When my burger actually arrived it was buried beneath a mountain of sauces. Ketchup, rosada (which is just mayo and ketchup already mixed), a mayo-based herb sauce and pinapple sauce obscured the patty alongside a dusting of potato chip bits. The hamburger itself was a bizarre blend of meats. Is it beef and saugage mixed? There's a sweet, offalish flavour to the burger. These days, I sometimes cross the street now to escape the smell of the cooking "hamburgers".


Fortunately, there are other, much tastier, options in our neighbourhood. One of my favourites is the mini-empanada man. Just outside the hospital gates, this elderly gentleman carts over an entire oven and sets up shop for the day. I assume there is an extension cord somewhere in the bushes behind the hospital fence that he uses to plug it in, perhaps in exchange for an empanada bribe. There he sits, beneath a large umbrella, as he makes dozens of tiny bite-sized empanadas filled with sweet guava jam. They're only 200 pesos each (10 cents) and he always throws in an extra one for free. Even if you're not buying a snack, he's a great character to say hello to because you'll always get back a stream of pleasantries: "Buenos dias! Como estan? Bien? Me alegro!"

Further along the street is the stuffed arepa lady. Although certainly more camera shy that the empanada-man, her arepas are delicious. What a boon when we discovered these! Heading home with no real prospects for dinner? Some of these arepas are dense enough to be a meal in themselves. An arepa is Colombia's answer to the tortilla, although it is much thicker and more crumbly than a Mexican tortilla. The stuffed arepas have a variety of options inside them... all meat centric, as you would expect. One of the best is the mixed arepa with beef, chicken, cheese and chicharron (fried pig fat). Health conscious, no? Delicious, yes!







At last, we are on our street. On the way, you absolutely have to stop and smell the frangipani. It has a sweet fragrance that reminds me of the South Pacific islands. Most days, Dan holds down a branch so I can take in its perfume on the walk. Leonel, our doorman, is on the step when we arrive. We're home!

Our Street

Leo hanging out on the doorstep